The Fight Against Darkness
by DarkWarder24
Summary: A Captain of the Home guard must battle all types of demons to save is city of Arborlon.
1. The Dark One's creature

The Dark Ones Creature  
  
Crispin winced with pain as he ran further into the cave. Pain shot through his right leg with every step he took. By now, the swelling on his ankle was worse. The muscles on his left leg were sore from supporting his body weight. The creature was not far from him. Silently, it moved through the maze of tunnels within the caverns with astonishing speed, tracking the Elven hunter.  
  
The tunnel before Crispin split into two ways. The Elf paused for a moment, then took the right one. He was relying on instinct now, the pain in his right leg already clouding his mind. Abrubtly, he stopped running. The tunnel was more wider and spacious than the previous one. It would do him no good to continue running, Sooner or later the monster would catch up to him.  
  
It was here the Elven hunter would make his stand. Crispin's eyes had already come accustomed to the darkness of the cave. Yet, it was still too dark to see clearly. Crispin strained his eyes, making use of his years of training to view the surroundings. The creature should have caught up with him by now. But where was it? He was about to find out.  
  
A massive form moved silently through the opening of the tunnel, dark and forbidding. It resembled a wolf, yet it couldn't be one, because it was much larger and its claws were about a foot long. Scales covered the the entire body of the creature, like an impenetrable armor. Crispin immediately recognized it. It was a Hell hound.  
  
The Elven hunter shuddered at the thought. He had heard many stories of the terrible creatures. Few who ever saw them lived to tell the tale. Summoned from hell, these creatures never failed to do their master's bidding. They were best for what they were made for, to hunt and to kill. No one ever questioned their ferocity. Once a Hell hound started a hunt it would never give up, unless it was killed and it would fight savagely to the death.  
  
Someone had ordered the Hell hound to slaughter his entire patrol of Elven hunters. But why? A dozen Elven hunters set out that mourning, making their way to patrol the outskirts of the city, Arborlorn. However, there was no sign of the previous shift of Elven hunters. While searching, they found the bodies in the forest surrounding the outpost, or atleast what remained of their bodies. Then it came for them. One by one his Elven hunters fell to the evil. Now it had come for him. In a flash, Crispin had drawn his broad sword. even if he were to die he would not give in easily, thought Crispin bitterly. Despite his injured ankle, the Elf made his way towards the Hell hound steadily, sword swaying in his hand. It was a fight to the death. Only one would come out alive.


	2. One last struggle

One last struggle  
  
The Hell hound hesitated. It had not expected a direct confrontation. No one had ever dared to do so. Then it lunged, claws ripping at Elven hunter's chest, giving a blow so powerful that no ordinary Elf could have withstood. But Crispin was no ordinary Elf. As an Elven hunter he was trained to withstand all sorts of punishment. The best of the best. staggering for only a second, he wa back on his feet again, with fierce determination mirrored in his eyes. Slowly, the two circled each other, trying to find an opening in the others defense. The Hell hound gave a loud howl that send waves of terror running through the elven hunter. Again it sprang forward, quick and silent. But Crispin was quicker. He sidestepped, and thrust his sword deep into the flesh of the demon. The Hell hound shrugged off the blow as if it meant nothing. It moved quickly to the other side before the Elven hunter could attempt another attack.  
  
Crispin smiled despite his injuries. His long years of training had served him well. He knew the creature of the dark was deadly but so was he. The Hell hound was getting more aggressive by the minute, impatient by how long the fight was taking. Before the Elven hunter knew it, it was atop him, reaping and tearing at his arms and face. Crispin cried out in pain and gathering his strength, gave a powerful kick to the abdomen of the demon. To his suprise, the demon retreated, pain reflecting in its eyes. Crispin scrambled to his feet. Blood and sweat bathed his face. Unbearable pain swept through his body. A few moments he knew he would be down and unconcious. He had to end this fight now. Taking a gamble, the experienced Elven hunter collapsed unto the floor of the cavern. he had to decieve the Hell hound into believing he was too exhausted to fight. Grabbing a rock, Crispin hurled it at the monstrous beast. The Hell hound barely moved as the rock struck it. Then it howled in glee. If this was the best the Elf could manage then finishing it off should be a piece of cake. Thinking it secured its victory, the Hell hound pounced on the fallen warrior. But Crispin was ready.  
  
With the sword gripped tightly in both hands, he thrust it deep into the throat of the demon. The demon howled loudly, failing to conceal the pain and injury that had been done to it. But it was not finished with the Elven hunter. Feeling its life slowly slipping away, the Hell hound continued to rip at Crispin. Crispin knew it was now or never. Reaching into his boots for his favorite weapon, a wicked looking dagger, he pushed the entire dagger into the abdomen of the Hell hound. This time the Hell hound could not take it anymore. Thick green blood was gushing out its throat and abdomen. With his last ounce of strength, Crispin heaved the demon away from him. It struggled for a few minutes before laying down going still and lifeless never to torment anything again.  
  
This is the first time a Hell hound set out to hunt and destroy something and fail. Crispin surveyed the battlefield, green blood mixed with blue, decorating the cavern floor. He rested a few minutes before setting out for Arborlorn to report to the King that Hell hounds are loose in Elven territory. News like this couldnt wait because an Elven hunter was tired. 


	3. Meet with the Elven King

Meet with the Elven King  
  
It was a few hours since the Hell hound attack. Shadows lenghtened across the forested city of Arborlorn. Night was steadily creeping upon them. The Elven King Alastor Ellessidil sat alone in his study. Fatigue lined his face, as he wearily crossed the room to lay down. Despite his eighty- two years, Alastor was in excelent health. He could still ride, and was quick and confident enough to be dangerous with any weapon. His mind was still sharp and always alert. He was also very decisive, a gift that insured his right to be King. Before laying down he caught his reflection in a dais of water. The eyes mirrored were startling blue, hard and penetrating, eyes of a man that has seen to many years and unpleasantness.  
  
He sighed and layed down. He desperately tried to stay awake and think , but he was losing the battle and sleep was overcoming him. A distanced knock, knocked him out of his stupor. The Elven King stood up and walked to the door. He admitted the lean Elven hunter , Captain of the Home guard, in. The ready Elf bent into a bow in submission to his king. Alastor's sharp eyes noticed the fresh battlewounds the other had decorating his small body, all wariness leaving them.  
  
" Rise, what brings you hear at this hour, Crispin is it?" The king asked impatiently.  
  
" Sir, yes that is my name," he said nodding. " Your majesty, I have important news. While my party we..." The King cut him off.  
  
" Crispin, this is no time for a long story, im weary right now so just get to the point!" The smaller Elf nodded.  
  
" Well sir, their are Hell hounds loose in Elven territory!"  
  
Utter disbelief crossed the Elven King's aged face. He crossed the room and sat down. he knew the stories pf Hell hounds. They were terribly vicious and extremely hard to kill. They also traveled in packs and if one was spotted than be ready for others.  
  
" Have I lived to long?" He muttered. " If the Hell hounds get loose in the city how can I protect them? I am their King, the responsibility for their protection is all mines. I have always accepted that, Crispin. Yet for the first time in my life, I wish it were otherwise..." He trailed off reluctantly, then turned to Crispin." Well we must do what we can. I will need your help, you look as if you've had some experience with these creatures. I just hope the stories are not right about them being invincible." Crispin flinched, causing pain to shoot throughout his body.  
  
" My lord, the stories aren't so true. They are very mortal, you want proof? Head northwest of the outpost until you reach a cave. Walk through the tunnel and see just how indestructable they are." The King waved off the comment wearily. " Captain, have my servent summon my most trusted advisors and have them gather in the Elven High Council room, one hour after first light. Tell no one else. See to it that the guard keeps watch without you. Remember one hour after first light. I will see you then." Urgency flashed across Crispin's boyish features. " My lord..." The King shook his head sternly." Elven hunter, tommorrow, and we shall speak!" 


	4. The Elven High Council

Elven High Council  
  
The alloted time passed, and those summoned by the Elven king assembled in th High Council. The council room was a cavernous, hexagonal chamber built of oak and stone with its cathedral ceiling peaked starlike. A set of huge, wooden doors opened into the room, lighted by the low hanging oil lamps suspended at the ends of iron chains. Against the wall stood a statue of the King. It was next to a great, hand carven throne flanked by a line of standards, which hung flags bearing the insignia of the houses of Elven Kings. Seats bordered the remaining walls, each sat a dozen of rows , all overlooking an area of polished stone flooring encirlced like an arena. At the exact center of the room stood a wide oval table with twenty one chairs which held members of the Elven High Council. Only six of these chairs were occupied this night. At one set Crispin.  
  
He wore twin daggers around his waist and a broad sword hung in its scabbard from the back of his chair. He wore no insignia of office except for a silver medallion that bore the crest of the Ellesidils abd dangled from a silver chain around his neck. He was the Captain of the Home Gaurd, the elite corps of Elven hunters whose sole duty was the protection of the King. His presence to the others at the council was something of a mystery. But then why are we summoned at this hour, was swimming through everyone's head. He spoke little to the five sitting around, his eyes staring restless to the closed double doors at the far end of the chamber. Thoughts of events from the past clouded his mind. Before dawn had approached Crispin was in the Gardens of Life. The Elven people of Arborlorn lay sleeping still wrapped in a warmth and solitudes of their beds.  
  
He passed between the sentries of the Black Watch or night guards. He passed quickly and only his sandled feet on the gravel pathway disturbed the silence of the new day, as he slipped into the shadowerd dark beyond. he came to an abrubt stop as he stood in front of the Ellcry's. The Ellcry's is a strange and wondrous tree that stood at the center of the gardens. The tree, as legends told, served as protector against a evil that almost destroyed the Elven nations centuried ago. The evil had been shut away from the earth to a place called the Forbidding. Little is known about the Forbbiding besides it being a dimensional world that hosted dangerous demons. If the Ellcrys were to die than the Forbidding would be opened and the demons let loose to wreck havoc upon the land. That is ehy their are Chosen. The Chosen are a member of Elves that took care of the Ellcrys. They were chosen by the tree, which is where they got their name. Their is a tradition handed down through generations of Elves, a tradition of service that the Elves regarded as both a coveted honor and a solemn duty.  
  
Crispin stared in awe at the silver barked, red leaved tree. He placed his hands on the silver bark and words of greeting formed his lips but he never got to speak. A slender branch from the ancient tree dipped slightly to brush his shoulder.  
  
~ Crispin ~  
  
The young Elf jumped at the sound of his name. But no one had spoken. The sound had been in his head, the voice little more than a image in his own face. It was the Ellcrys. He cought his breath, twisting his head to glimpse at the silver branch. Confusion swept through him. She had never spoken to him before.  
  
~ Crispin! Hear me. Remember what I tell you. Do not fail me. ~  
  
A chill swept over him and the Gardens of Life were surrounded by a deep, hollow silence. images filled his head, flowing in one after the other. Their were horror contained in those images. if he had been able he would have turned and fled but the tree held him still. The images continued to come and the horror to rise until he felt he could stand no more. Then at last it was finished, the Ellcrys was silent once more, her limbs lifting from his shoulders and strecthing wide to catch the mourning rays of sun. The Elven hunter stood frozen, a silent voice of truth spoke soundlessly. The legend was no legend. The legend was real. Evil did lie behind a force called the Forbidding. Only she kept the Elven poeple and the rest of the world safe. And now she is dying!  
  
Crispin found himself staring breathlessly at a portrait of Arborlorn back in the council room. He glanced around the room and briefly studied the King. The Elven King stared at the wall, lost in his own thoughts. He turned his head and studied the other four. His gaze shifted momentarily on their faces. Tam Ellesidil sat on his father's right, the place at the table only the crown prince sat. Tam lacked compassion ans at times showed stubborness that blocked his good senses. It was difficult to predict what might happen when it was his place to be King. The King's First Minister, Emer Chios, occupied the chair next to Tam. Being the First Minister, he was in charge of the council while the King is absent. Being an articulate and persuasive man, he can be depended on to express his feelings openly. Kael Pindanon, Commander of the Elven army, was the Kings oldest and closest friend. Even though he was ten years younger than the King, he looked atleast that much older. His face seemed like dry wood, scarred and knotted from a lifetime of combat. White hair flowed down below his shoulders, and a great drooping mustache arched around the thin line of his mouth. The old soldier was completely devoted to hos King. The last Elf was younger than himself. His name was Rand. The King's youngest son. Slim and dark haired, he set next to Pindanon, his chair drawn back slightly from the oval table, not speaking to the others but watching in silence.  
  
Suddenly, the massive doors swung open at the far end of the chamber and six heads turned as one.Allanon the driud strode through, tall and forbidding in his black robes. He moved wordlessly to the opposite end of the oval table. There the druid seated himself and raised his dark face towards the King.  
  
" My Lord, Alastor!" He bowed slightly.  
  
" Allanon," the King replied. " You are welcome."  
  
" All are assembled?"  
  
" All, " Eventine assured him, naming them one by one. " Please, one of my Elven hunters has some vital information. I think we all need to hear this." He motioned to Crispin and went silent. Crispin stood and bowed before everyone before speaking.  
  
" During an Elven patrol the previous day, we left to change shifts with the previous Elven hunters at the outpost. While getting closer and closer we noticed a stench in the air that made my stomach curl. We also took notice of the absence of squirrels and birds. The forest were quieter than an Elven hunter tracking animals. When we got to the outpost the Elven hunters were no where around. Upon looking, we discovered the eleven mangled forms that used to be highly trained Elven hunters. We wondered what could have done this and the answer came to un like a whirlwind. A massive Hell hound jumped out and quickly devoured Ard Patrinell. We fled and it chased us. One by one the Elven hunters fell. I tried to slow it down but I got caught up in one of our Creeper traps. I managed to get out but very badly wounded. I could barely run. After awhile I thought I lost it, only to find out it was right behind me. It played with me. Making me go anywhere it wanted. I tried to turn and run but everytime it was in front of me howling madly. It kept this up until it cornered me and the only place I had to run was a dark tunnel. I ran into the tunnel. It was very dark and damp. Their were jagged rocks all over and stagalimites hanging down. I heard water running nearby, so I kept running knowing their should be another exit where the water lead. I ran until my legs wouldnt carry me anymore. I realized I had to make my last stand. Before I had time to form a plan the demon was rushed me but i dogded it and we embraced in a dance of death. Needless to say I won! The demon is dead, but you can bet there are more out there. They are every bit ferocious asthe legends told only they can be killed. It was a struggle I almost didnt come out of. At first it was a mystery. I had no clue why Hell hounds were appearing. I recently found the answer.... The Ellcrys are dying!" He paused and waited for their cries of denial to stop before continuing. " People, it is true. She talked to me this mourning. She has never talked to me before. It was a little different than I thought, when she spoke it was in my mind and it came in images instead of words. She told me that when she died the Forbidding would be opened and the demons let loose. She showed me all kinds of demons and what will happen if we dont prepare ourselves. And believe me Hell hounds are the least of our worries compared to some of the demons she showed me. The demon hordes have an unimaginable sum of demons and they fight with suck ferocity. I really dont believe our army can even hope to cut down their ranks by half!"  
  
Kael Pindanon stood up, outrage showing clearly on his face. " Captain! You do not know as much as you think you know about my army!" Crispin laughed.  
  
" And Commander, you do not began to know what the demon army looks like. Trust me! We need to contact the Bordermen in the Legions Free Corps. They will know what to do. If they do not come then I hope Pindanon can back up his word about the Elven army." He bowed and took his seat going silent once more. The King stood up to speak.  
  
" I just want everyone to know that the many challenges this city has faced, not once have we been defeated. Just look around, we are still here! Now I know I havent done anything brave or to be remembered like the great Kings of old, but I know I will not let some filthy demons take down the center of the Elven nation. Allanon, I believe you wish to speak." He sat, giving all the attention to the tall historian. Allanon stood and went through his cloak and brung forth a slim, wooden and silver staff. " Allanon," the King proclaimed! " What have you done?"  
  
" The Ellcrys, Druid. You have cut a living branch from the tree!"  
  
" Seize him!"  
  
" Sling him in a dungeon!"  
  
A wave of Allanon's hand silenced them all. " No people, it was given to me." The tall man replied. " Before coming here I spoke to the Ellcrys. She asked me why I had come. I told her that the Elves have no magic to counter that of the demons. She gave it to me, Elven King, so that I may give it to you to carry to battle against those that threaten her people and land." The Druids voice was so col that it seemed to freeze the very air in the room. " Here is magic that will give you strength to the Elven army, power to withstand the evil that lies within the demon hordes. This staff shall be our talisman, the right arm of the Ellcrys, carried forth when both armies meet to do battle!" he thrust the staff into Eventines hands, and they closed about it. The King's eyes widened in shock.  
  
" It lives! Apart from her yet it is still filled with her life." The Druid moved back a pace and his eyes shifted about everyone.  
  
" Does the army stand ready?" The King nodded. " Good. We march at Dawn. We must move quickly now."  
  
" But where are we marching to?" The King asked immediately. " Have you found where the Forbidding will break?" The Druid nodded.  
  
" I have, the Ellcrys told me. She senses the demons all centered on a single point. She feels herself weakening where they gather. The demons are summoned to that place by the one that commands them, the Dagda Mor. he has powers that rival my own. But we will be waiting for them, we will stand ready for battle while they are still disorganized." He unrolled a map and placed it sqaurely on the table." The break will come here!" his finger pointed to the Hoare Flats. 


	5. The Legions Free Corps

The Legions Free Corps  
  
That same afternoon, when light had nearly gone, the Legions Free Corps rode into Arborlorn. The people of the city stopped whatever they were doing to watch them. There was no mistaking the Free Corps. Rand Ellessidil sat trapped in the manor with his father and the Druid, trying to familiarize themselves with the westland map. A knock on the door brought the Kings servant Gael in.  
  
" My Lord, a calvalry command of the Border Legion have arrived." The young aid announced, appearing abrubtly at the study door." They should be here in a few minutes."  
  
" The Legion!" A smile flew across his face and the King rose to his feet moving towards the door.  
  
" Elven King!" Allanons deep voice brought Alastor about sharply. " We have important work to do here. Send your son to go in your place if only to give your welcome." Rand stared at Allanon in suprise and eagerly turned to his father. The King hesitated, seeing the look in his eyes and nodded.  
  
" Ok, Rand. extend my compliements to them and make sure qaurters are provided for our much welcomed guest." A smile sent his son running through the manor, glad to have a mission of importance for once. Rand passed through the front gates in front of the manor. He recognized the riders. Long gray cloaks bordered in crimson billowed from their shoulders and wide brimmed hats with a single crimson feather set cocked upon their heads. Long bows and bradswords were strapped across their backs. Each rider held a lance from which fluttered a small crimson and gray pennant, and the horses wore light armor of leather with metal fastenings.  
  
" The Free Corps." Rand muttered to himself. " They sent us the Free Corps!"  
  
Their were few who had not heard of the Free Corps. It got its name from the promise it gave to those that joimed its ranks , that soldiers might leave behind without fear or question or need for explanation all that had happened before in their life. For most, their was much to be left. THey came from different lands with different histories and different lives, but all came for a similar reason. Their were theives among them, killers and cheats, soldiers broken from other armies, men of low blood and high, men with honor and men without, some searching, some fleeing, some drifting but all seeking to forget what they were, what they had been, they came to start a new life. The Free Corps gave them that chance. No soldier of the Free Corps was ever asked about his past, his life began the day he joined, new name and all. What had come before him was finished, only the present mattered and what the man might make of himself for the time that he served. For most, the time was short. The Free Corps were considered expendable. There was a price for everything and this price was not so unreasonable. If anything it was a source of pride for the soldiers who paid it, an identity that set them apart from any other fighting man in the Four Lands. It was a tradition of the Free Corps that its soldiers shoulf die in battle. It was not imortant that they should die but that they should die well.  
  
The Legion command halted in front of the sturdy, iron gates. A tall, gray cloaked rider dismounted. Catching sight of Rand he passes his reigns of his horse to another and strode towards the Elven Prince.  
  
" I am Lan Mandragoran, Commander of the Legions Free Corps." For an instant Rand was to shocked by the others appearance to speak. He was a big man, towaring over the Elven Prince. His weathered, yet still youthful face was criscrossed with dozens of scars, some of which ran through the light red beard that shaded his jaw, leaving streaks of white. A tangle of rust, colored hair fell to his shoulders, braided and tied. Parts of one ear was missing and the other was home to a golden ring. Hazel eyes fixed the Elven Prince, so hard they seemed chizled from stone. Rand found himself staring and quickly recovered.  
  
" I am Rand Ellessidil. Alastor is my father, he extends his compliments and to see you are quartered. How soon can we expect other comrades?" A faint smile crossed the mans hard face.  
  
" Their are no other commands. Just the six hundred you see before you."  
  
" Six hundred!" Rand failed to hide his dismay. " What of the Border Legion?"  
  
" My Lord, I will be direct with you. They may never come. They think your problem with demons are some what of a westland myth!"  
  
" A myth!" Rand was apalled. " Well! I guess we should be glad we got the Free Corps. Now let me see you to your qaurters." Stee Jans shook his hand.  
  
" No qaurters are necessary. I sleep with my soldiers, Elven Prince. The Elven army marches in the mourning, I am told." Rand nodded.  
  
" Then we will march with them. We need only the rest of tonight. Please tell the King this."  
  
" I will!" Rand promised. The legions Commander saluted and turned back to his horse. Rand stared after him with admiration and disbelief. Six hundred soldiers. Thinking of thousands of demons that would come against them, he found himself what possible difference six hundred southlanders would make! 


	6. The March

The March

At dawn, the Elves marched from Arborlorn, to the wail of pipes and steady beats of drums; voices raised in a song, banners flying in vivid colors against a sky still dark and clouded. Alastor Elessedil rode at the head, gray hair flowing down chain mail forged of blue iron, his right hand holding firmly to the silver white staff at his waist. Allanon was at his side, a spectral shadow, tall and black atop a still taller and blacker Artaq, his warhorse. Behind rode the King's sons: Tam, cloaked in white and bearing the Elven standard of battle, a war eagle on a field of crimson; Rand, cloaked in green and carrying the banner of the house of the Elessedil, a crown wreathed in boughs set over a spreading oak. Mat, Perrin and Thom accompanied by three dozen hardened Elven hunters came next. This was quickly followed by the tireless gray and crimson of the Free Corps, six hundred strong. Pindanon rode alone at the front of his command, a gaunt, bent figure atop his warhorse, his battle scarred armor lashed about his body as if holding it in place. The army followed him, massive and forbidding, six columns wide and thousands strong, They numbered three companies of cavalry, battle lances pointed skyward in a forest of iron tipped shafts, four companies of foot soldiers with pikes and body shields, and two companied of archers bearing the great Elven longbows. The army was all clad in the traditional manner of the Elven warrior, lightly armored with chain mail vest and leather guards to assure mobility and quickness.

It was an awesome spectacle. Traps and weapons creaked in the early morning, flashed in dull glimmerings through faint light, and cast the Elves in half human forms that whispered of death. The people of Arborlorn came to watch the awesome proceedings. Atop the ramparts, on walls and fences, in fields and gardens, lining the way at every step, they came to wish good look and say goodbye with cheers of encouragement and hope with silences born with emotions that had no voice. Before the gates of the Garden's of life stood the legendary Black Watch, present to every man, lances raised in salute. The army moved on. Like a narrow black snake the army moved on to a bridge , crossed and passed into the silent woods beyond. The glitter of weapons and armor twinkled into darkness, banners slipped from view, and the strains of song, the wail of pipes, and the roll of drums faded into echoes quickly lost in the canopy of trees. By the time the lights rays burst through the dust and mist revealing the road the grand procession had disappeared from view.

For five days the army marched west from Arborlorn making their way through thick forest toward the Sarandanon. The rain had moved east into the borderlands leaving the sky a cloudless blue, the sun shining in the Elves. The Evidence of danger became more apparent as the Elves marched past town and villages. Elven families past on their way to the Home city with their possessions on carts or horses. Their homes and villages lay abandoned behind them. Terrifying creatures roamed the west freely, without a challenge, their frightened voices warned. The warned of dark and brutal monster that killed and disappeared as quickly as they came. Cottages had been stripped and homes violated, the Elves within left torn and broken. As the army marched past, they were showered with cheers of encouragement and cries of hope, yet their faces remained clouded with doubt.

The Elven army camped that night at the eastern end of the valley; at dawn on the following day, it begin the journey across the Sarandanon. The army marched past fences and cottages that still littered Elves everywhere. Few left here. Their heart was engraved in the land they farmed, and would not be frightened off easily. By midafternoon, the army reached the western end of the valley. In the distance beyond the land, the humped ridge of the Breakline rose up against the horizon. The sun already lay across the peak of the mountains, shining golden light spilling out of the rock. In the growing darkness of the eastern sky, the moon's whiteness glimmered faintly.


End file.
